


Eye of The Storm

by Articray200



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blessed isles, Gen, One Shot, Shadow Isles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Articray200/pseuds/Articray200
Summary: Yorick's journey has finally come to an end.





	Eye of The Storm

Yorick dug his spade into the ground and dragged it around him to form a circle. He stood before the tarnished armor of the Ruined King. Gray hair splayed out on the ground, accompanied by a pool of red. The dark clouds of the Shadow Isles didn’t do much to improve the monk’s mood. He stared into the tired eyes of the Ruined King. His first question was easy.

“Why?” Yorick uttered.

He failed to fathom the tragedy the Blessed Isles was forced to suffer. The mist that hung over him seemed to reel back as he stepped towards the fallen king. He knelt, and he frowned. Though sympathy was long gone, Yorick did pity this man. The King sputtered, wheezed, but forced out a response.

“Do you know what it feels like… to lose a love?”

Yorick pondered this for a moment. He rested a hand on the handle of his spade and hung his head in deep thought. The Mist did not speak to him. It feared him now.

“No.” Yorick faced the dark sky. “No, I don’t. I’ve never loved, I’ve never had anybody close  _ to _ love. I… suppose that’s strange to hear.”

“Indeed…” The Ruined King closed his eyes. “Then I suppose you fail to understand why I did this.”

“No, I understand. I simply do not agree.” Yorick tilted his head. “I may not know what it’s like to love, but I understand loss. I did not have friends, and my brothers shunned me. The only company I had as a child were the souls of the deceased and not-yet-departed.”

He did not feel the Mist’s presence. It was diminishing- he could feel it. It was reeling, retreating, but retreating was futile now. It was over.

“When one departed, I no longer heard from them. Their stories and words were only a memory in my mind.” Yorick sighed. “A memory that became the one thing I had left of them. Memories were the only true company I had once this all began.”

“Some things you must accept… even if the price of accepting is pain,” Yorick continued, “Pain is what lets us know we still live. A life without pain is not a life at all,”

Silence passed through the area. Neither one of them exchanged words, and neither wished to face the other. They bathed in the shadows for a bit, feeling the absence of an ominous being. It was almost the end. Yorick grasped at the vial around his neck. “Not yet” was what he had to tell himself. His fist shook in both fright and eagerness.

“If this is truly my end...” the Ruined King speaks, “... will you not hear my final plea?”

“That is?” Yorick pursed his lips.

“The alter behind me, on it lays my wife under a veil. Please, lay me to rest next to her.”

Yorick thought over the king’s words thoroughly, and he eventually decided to comply. The king, frail and dying, was easy to lift. He lay the man on the smooth altar next to his wife. The king joined hands with his wife’s body and exhaled. Candles on both sides of the altar lit immediately, and the altar shined a light that put the dark clouds in extreme contrast. The king’s body was fading away into dust with his wife’s. Their energy, it formed from their ash and took the shame of a white ball. It stretched towards the heavens in a beam, parting the clouds. The light burned away the last bit of Mist that remained, and the clouds fled as well. The light expanded towards the corruption, swallowing trees, swallowing land, and swallowing Yorick. He covered his eyes in a quiet gasp.

Yorick was the one laying on the ground now. There wasn’t much he could see on his side with the grass covering his vision. However, as he saw the color green, anticipation ran through him like fire. He climbed to his feet so quickly that he stumbled back and had to catch himself. He stood on a small, circular island under a tree surrounded by bright, beautiful flora. Dewdrops from the tree hit his cloak and dripped down his face. The sound of the water running stilled his heart, and he couldn’t believe that the waterfall in front of him was real. The Mist was gone…

Yorick reached a hand up and grasped the vial at his neck. The Tears of Life had kept him alive this entire time, and it was a beacon of safety in the curse he willed against the Ruined King. Now… Yorick was removing it. Still, he felt he had nothing to fear. As the vial dropped to the ground and rolled next to a flower, he noticed his spade. He took it in his hands and felt along the wood that connected to the head. He used to face the heavens in hopes that his journey would be over. Now, he faced them in hopes that it  _ was _ over. When he saw the waterfall before him and realized that this world he stood in was no fabrication, he laughed.

He laughed… and laughed…

… and cried.

  
  
  



End file.
